


Lucky Quarter

by MixterGlacia



Series: RvB Wing Fics [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood, Harpies, M/M, Wingfic, bs'ing medical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:18:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixterGlacia/pseuds/MixterGlacia
Summary: David learned to hide his wings under his clothes when he was little. Agent Washington isn't little anymore, and not sure how long he can hide.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There is a distinct lack of wingfic's in RvB, and I am utter trash for birds.

Stand up tall. Keep your toes splayed so your talons could be easily seen. Tail low, but flared to show the markings. Puff your chest out, especially if your feathering covered it. Make certain you didn’t duck your head so they could see your keen eyes. Crests and tufts should be lifted ever so slightly, remember to keep it tasteful. 

Above all, hold your wings with pride. This was rumored to be the way to stand out to the UNSC promotion boards.

David ignored that. He stood at attention of course! Yet the only indication that he was Winged were his talons (if you could even call them that) and his almost hidden tail. If you watched you could notice slight movement under his shirt. They were there but tucked away for some reason.

He ignored the traditional posturing that his special ops friends swore by when he’d asked their advice on the subject. He was fully prepared to not be called in.

So when his C.O. came to him in the middle of the night he was expecting to be discharged if he was being honest. There were two unfamiliar faces there before him. One was a starling, wings flecked with shimmering speckles. He introduced himself as the Counselor. The other was surprisingly Wingless, and let his comrade speak for him.

“We’ve been reviewing your application David.” The starling began, wings fluttering a bit. “We would be honored to accept you into the program.”

That was not what he expected.

 

 

He accepted, of course this was his ticket out of the mess he’d caused with another  C.O. and while it didn’t pay better technically, it meant he didn’t have to pay for a house or food, those sorts of things. All in all, a lucky break for the older man.

When he’d arrived he was given a new name. Washington. He requested that the curtains be drawn when they gave him a physical evaluation. Tried to ignore the looks the medical staff gave him at the sight of his wings, then tucked them away the instant he was allowed.

He was cleared without a fuss thankfully, and given armor (that thankfully had room so he didn’t have to have them sticking out.) before being introduced to his new team.

First was his bunkmate, a huge Philippines Eagle Owl with the codename Maine. His suit wasn’t able to accommodate for such large wingspan, so his ruddy feathers shifted as the Counselor calmly explained the situation. 

Maine nodded curtly, firmly shook Wash’s hand and went on his way. They moved on.

Next were twin European Green Woodpeckers, North and South Dakota. South had instantly demanded to see his wings, which North reprimanded her for and apologized to Wash. 

“She’s just-...excited to meet folks she can’t identify right away.” He’d elaborated. 

Then a brilliant Stellar’s Jay named Florida, his soft voice masking a filthy mouth. He chuckled when the older man stammered after his thinly veiled innuendos. 

“Well, honey, you know where to look if you need to unwind~.”

He was interrupted by a British man calling himself Wyoming. His talons were huge and covered in down, as one would expect with a Snowy Owl. His wings flared a bit and he leaned in close to the jaybird. 

“Why Florida what about me~?”

Wash decided to excuse himself before it got out of hand. He ran into a friendly Cuckoo dubbed York, who insisted that he needed to meet Carolina. He assured the Counselor that he could handle it and waved farewell to the starling with a wing.

“I know you probably get this a lot but, are you Clipped or just tucking?”

Wash was glad for the armor because he was fairly sure he’d gone pale at the suggestion. “N-No, I just prefer to keep them out of the way.”

“Shit, sorry for jumping to conclusions. We’ve got a bunch of people working with Freelancer that are so I just figured-” He trailed off with a nervous chuckle, scratching at the Kevlar covering his neck. “CT’s clipped and so are West an- Oh, y’know what let’s just get off the subject and back to the task, huh?”

The older man nodded, relaxing as the Cuckoo dropped the subject. 

He was lead to the first room on the right of the hall where their quarters were. York let himself in unannounced and Wash was surprised.

Carolina, who had been mentioned by many as being the strongest member in Freelancer, was Wingless. She whipped around, just in the softer undersuit and scowled at York. 

“What. The fuck, York.” She noticed Wash behind him and reigned in her expression. “You’re Washington.”

“Uhm, yes I am?” He mentally berated himself for saying it like it was a question. He waited as she glanced at the clock overhead.

“You should be trying to get settled and sleep. You have training in the first time block tomorrow.”

 

 

That was four months ago. Four months since he’d met them all. Since he’d met Maine, and started running missions with the owl. Four months since he was the only one besides Carolina that didn’t pester him about what species he was. He’d only told them he was a New World bird, he didn’t like people asking, or knowing for that matter. They treat him differently when they know.

In those four months he’d learned that he wasn’t the greatest on the team but when he and Maine were partnered, they excelled. So it wasn’t a surprise when their current orders paired them up to run ahead as distractions. Not surprising when it worked, with Maine drawing the attention to them by using his massive wings to launch high into the air before dropping down to run.

What was surprising was the car that blindsided them, throwing them into the network of caves they were investigating. Not surprisingly, he passed out.

 

 

Pain was the first thing he felt. His side was on fire. Bleary-eye’d he tried to sit more upright and look around but a strong hand forced him to stay put. 

“No. Medic’s on the way. Don’t move.” Maine ordered, keeping the older man still. 

Wash tried to talk but it made the pain so much worse. He only whined much to his embarrassment. The owl snarled, but wouldn’t tighten his grip anymore. Probably so the other man wasn’t hurt further if he had to guess. So he rested against his shoulder. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them. They’d become very close in the short time they knew each other. 

They didn’t really talk about it but from the outside, it seemed like they were an old couple. Knowing what the other needed without words, saving the others favorite foods until they arrived for meals, those kinds of small things. They hadn’t really noticed if they were honest. (York seemed to think it was.)

Wash was finally noticing them now, though. Being at risk of dying seemed to do that to folks. He had nothing else to do, after all. So reflecting seemed the least painful way to wait for the medic to arrive. He drifted in and out, before being startled awake by shouting.

“They’ve secured the area! Sending in the Medic!” Maine’s radio crackled in Wash’s ear.

When the woman arrived, she looked over what he could turn to see. She looked at the two grimly.

“We’ll need to do an emergency patch here. Agent Maine, I need you to hold him still for me so I can remove the glass and his armor to get at the wound.”

 _Why would glass hurt so much?_ He was wondering as the owl nodded, and the medic started spraying around the would with antiseptic. He almost blacked out again when she removed the foot long sheet of reinforced glass from his back.

Things moved quickly after that. He felt her putting pressure on the wound while her other hand unclasped his chestplate. He could sense Maine tense. He was so dizzy.

“Hold his wings for me and for fucks sake be careful with them, he’s a hummingbird!.”

Oh right. Wings.

To the owl’s credit, Maine was very gentle as he held Wash’s wings out of the way while the medic used a plastic syringe to apply a temporary skin binder so they could air lift him back to base without him dying. The fact still stuck with him that Maine, the giant bird of prey had learned he was an Allen’s Hummingbird. He was really having a hell of a day.

 

 

He woke in the med bay. His eyes felt nasty, and he rubbed at them, feeling the slight pull of an IV in his hand. Right, he’d been impaled or something. Looking around he noticed Maine reading nearby, out of his armor. Likewise, the owl noticed Wash was waking up.

He shuffled over to the bed, keeping his wings tucked close to his body. “How’re you feeling.”

“Like cars really do hate my guts?”

That actually got a low huffing laugh out of the big guy so that was good.

“So. You tuck because you’re embarrassed about your species?” Well that took all of a minute.

He sighed a little, looking off towards the other side of the room. “People treat me different if they know my species. I’m not some china doll, but if you’re a hummer’ you get treated like one. So yeah I guess it’s ‘cause I’m embarrassed.”

“...You know I won’t.”

“Won’t what?”

“Baby you.” Maine said quietly. “I won’t tell the others.”

Wash gave a broken little chuckle, “They probably know.”

“If North finds out, you’ll know. He’ll coddle you to death.”

They both laughed that time, until the hummingbird doubled over from pain. Maine gently rubbed his shoulder until it subsided. Wash uncurled gingerly, looking over at the owl, words stuck in his throat.

“What?” The other asked.

“Thanks for...I dunno, for everything?” He’d always sucked and knowing the right words for things. “And I guess, if you don’t mind...”

“What is it.”

“...Do you think we could go on a date next time we get shore leave?” Wash braced himself for rejection, he was used to it. No one wanted to date a male hummingbird unless they were also one.

“We can do it when you get out of here. Movie date.” 

The older man would never _ever_ admit it, but his wings actually buzzed for a moment out of excitement.


End file.
